Tumbling Down
by Snarkymuch
Summary: Peter needs an escape and finds one, albeit an unhealthy one. Things are fine, according to Peter, that's until Tony catches on to his shitty coping mechanism.
1. Chapter 1

Peter hands shook as he tipped the prescription bottle, letting a pile of pills fall into his palm—Ativan, not his favorite, but it would do. He got them wherever he could. These he'd slipped from May's old stash. She started needing them after Ben's death. Thankfully, she hadn't noticed the few missing here and there. He wasn't going to admit he had a problem. No, this wasn't a problem—it was a solution.

He tossed them in his mouth, chewing them, grimacing at the bitter taste. Within minutes, a lightness spread through him. It wouldn't last long with his metabolism, but he'd already discovered a way to enhance the effect—vodka. He walked over to his bed and pulled out a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka he'd lifted from a homeless guy. He'd rationalized he was helping him. Lately, his morals had started falling into a gray area.

He took a few gulps of the burning liquid. It felt good. He sat back on his bed and lay back, bottle in hand and closed his eyes. May wouldn't be home for hours. She had picked up extra shifts at work to make ends meet.

After a few more pulls from the bottle, he twisted the lid back on the bottle and pushed himself back to sitting. The room wobbled for a moment. He relished this feeling. He felt free of the stress, free of the memories of Ben, free of the memories of Toomes, free from the reality of his life. It was his escape. He figured the universe owned him that.

He stood and stripped off his clothes, slipping on his suit. The drugs and alcohol numbed his overactive senses in a way nothing else could. He tossed the bottle of pills and vodka under his bed. He'd never taken this many pills at once before. He hoped the high would last.

He pulled his mask down over his face and climbed out the window.

"Good evening, Peter," Karen said pleasantly.

"Hey, Karen," he answered. "Can you do me a favor and just chill tonight? It's nothing personal but I'd rather no interruptions for a while."

"Of course," she replied.

"And you think you can turn off the baby monitor protocol for a few hours?"

"You know that I am unable to do that, Peter. Need I remind you that your ability to keep the suit depends on Mr. Stark having full access to missions."

Peter rolled his eyes. She was killing his high. "Fine, never mind, just give me some space, alright?"

"I understand," said the AI. "Going silent."

Peter climbed up to the top of the apartment building. His head light and warm. He knew it would be gone soon but he wanted to enjoy it. He laid down on the ledge, looking up at the sky. The moon was bright. He felt sluggish and he could still taste the residue of the pills in his mouth.

It felt like no more than a few minutes went by when Karen's voice was buzzing in his ear.

He groaned. When had he fallen asleep?

"Initiating call now …"

"Whoa, wait …" Peter tried to sit up and nearly from the ledge. He felt sick. This wasn't right. He'd done this before, maybe less pills, but still, shouldn't his metabolism have burned them off?

The skyline swam in his vision. The lights too bright now.

"Parker, I'm two minutes out? What's going on?" the all too familiar voice of Tony Stark came over the line.

Shit, Peter thought.

"Language, kid."

Had he said that out loud?

"Yes, you did, that time too. Wanna tell me why you're bradycardic?"

"Huh?" Peter asked, his mind was fuzzy.

Peter tried to get up again and nearly fell.

"Don't worry about it. I see you now. I'll be there in t-minus," Tony said.

Peter rolled his head and looked to see the Iron Man suit coming his way. He wondered if it was empty. He preferred it was. Peter tried to sit up, and again, nearly slipped from the ledge.

The suit landed with a thud beside him. The mask flipped open to show Tony's concerned face.

"What's going on, Peter?"

Peter shook his head. "M'fine. Just trying to get away from shit, what's it to you?"

"Excuse me?" Tony asked. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that attitude since I'm here saving your ass. Now, tell me what's going on?"

Peter felt sweaty, and his vision swam.

"Go away," Peter said. It came out more like a slur than he intended.

"Are you drunk?"

Peter wasn't in the mood for this. It was bringing down his high, reminding him too much of the bullshit he wanted to get away from. He pushed himself to stand, but the sudden change of position caused him to stumble back, and he slipped from the roof.

Falling felt good—until a pair of strong arms picked him from the sky.

"Fuck," Peter cursed. "Just let me go."

There was no answer from Tony other than a tightening of his grip. They took off into the sky. Peter knew where they were headed—the tower. They touched down on the balcony and Peter yanked himself from Iron Man's grip, pulling his mask off.

"Don't think you're going anywhere, kid," Tony said sharply, stepping out of his suit.

Peter was feeling a bit clearer. "It's not like you care."

"Don't go pulling that martyr bullshit on me, Parker," Tony said. "What the fuck is going on with you? Last time we talked, things seemed fine."

"I was probably high," Peter snapped.

"You were probably what?" the older man snapped. "So, you just decided to use drugs? Are you high now? What are you on?"

Peter shrugged. He honestly wasn't in the mood for twenty questions.

Tony crossed his arms, staring Peter down. "Easy way or the hard way. You pick. I'm gonna find out what you're taking and why."

Peter stared at Tony, and Tony held his gaze, his eyes intense and dark, challenging. Finally, Peter looked away. He just didn't have the energy for this.

"Speak," Tony commanded.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. His senses were becoming sharper, and his high was nearly gone. He just wanted another drink but figured Tony would lose his shit if he walked over to the bar and helped himself.

"It's just some pills and maybe a little drinking, nothing I can't handle."

Tony looked incredulous, his mouth opening and closing but no words falling out. After a moment he seemed to come back to himself, and Peter wished he hadn't.

"Just some fucking pills? Whose pills? What kind?"

"Benzos mostly. Why does it matter?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "You're done with the suit until this shit gets sorted. You know how fucking dangerous it is to mix benzos and alcohol? No wonder you were bradycardic. What the actual fuck, Peter?"

"Look, you want the suit, you can have it. I don't care," Peter said. "I got nothing to wear home, so you'll have to pick it up later."

"I've got to tell your Aunt." Tony murmured, pulling out his phone.

"You can't!" Peter snapped.

"Look, kid, adult talking, zip it. As far as I'm concerned, you need serious help and this is beyond me. I thought you were smarter than this." Tony was already dialing.

"Please." Peter's attitude shifted as Tony began speaking to his Aunt, explaining the situation. "Don't do this, please." It was too late, though. He could here May on the other end, crying. He'd let down another person.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. He watched Tony pace the room, talking furiously to his Aunt. He had to escape. Peter glanced at the balcony door; it was still open. His heart hammered in his chest. Maybe this would be fruitless, but he had to try. As soon as Tony turned his back, Peter ran and dove off the ledge of the balcony, arms outspread, letting the air rush by him as the ground grew closer. He closed his eyes and let the feeling of freedom fill him.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter let himself free fall but before he got to close to the ground, he shot out a web and caught a building, swinging in a wide arc. He didn't have a destination in mind; he just wanted to put distance between him and the tower. Swooping lower, he shot a web at a nearby streetlight and swung himself with a flip into the air, landing on top of it.

He really wished he had a plan.

A noise behind him made him internally sigh. It was the distinct sound of Tony's suit. He didn't even want to look. He knew he was in for shit.

"Incoming call from Mr. Stark," Karen said pleasantly.

"Ignore it," Peter said. "Don't answer any calls."

"Command overridden. Connecting now."

Peter groaned and braced himself. He had no idea what Tony was going to say, but he doubted it would be good.

"Peter," Tony greeted. "I think since you just officially shaved ten years off my life with that stunt, I think you owe it to me to stop fucking swinging around the city and get back to the tower. Now!"

Peter cringed. "Karen—"

"Don't even think of trying to end the call."

Peter sighed and shot out a web, swinging back toward the tower. He was probably going to regret this, but really, what were his other options? It's not like Peter could throw down with Tony in the streets. He just wished he'd understand, understand how it was all too much sometimes and how this was just not making shit any better.

He didn't see what the problem really was anyway. Who was he hurting by trying to forget? It wasn't like it harmed anyone. He just wished the world would leave him alone. He knew Tony drank and popped Xanax. What made it okay for him and not Peter?

Peter climbed the tower slowly, Iron Man hovering ever close behind him. It figured he wasn't going to let him out of his sight.

Peter pulled himself up onto the balcony, and Tony landed behind him.

"Inside, all the way," Tony said flatly.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept any sarcastic comments to himself. Tony followed him inside, not ditching the suit until Peter was inside and the door was locked behind them.

Tony strolled over to the bar and grabbed a glass, pouring himself a finger of scotch. He glanced back over his shoulder at Peter. "Can I get you one?"

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "So, this is what you wanted? Bring me back here to mock me?"

Tony turned around, leaning against the bar, looking tired, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Peter really couldn't remember a time he saw the man look so worn down by life. "I'm just trying to understand, Peter." He sighed. "You had it all. Why give it all up to get high and drunk?"

Peter walked over to the couch and plopped down. "Says the man drinking to solve his own shitty problems."

"Fuck, Peter!" Tony set the glass down. "What is your problem with me?" He walked over and sat across from Peter, arms resting on his knees, full attention on him. He raked a hand over his face. "What's going on with you?"

"It's just too much, okay?"

"What is?" Tony asked. "School, Spider-Man, me, what?"

"All of it plus some, alright?" Peter leaned back against the plush cushions and closed his eyes, drawing a slow, deep breath to steady himself. "It just helps, okay? It lets me forget for a while. It numbs me. I really don't see the issue."

Tony sighed. "How long?"

Peter shrugged. "Since Toomes got sentenced. Liz was gone. Flash has been on my case. God, and May, she's trying so hard to pay the bills and now this; it's going to kill her."

"Easy, Kid," Tony said. "May will be alright."

Peter sat upright. "No, she won't. You don't know her. She'll blame herself. What am I supposed to do?"

"We'll figure this out, okay? Trust me. We'll get you help. I promised her already I'd take care of you."

"You what?"

"You need help, Peter."

Peter stood up and walked away from Tony. "Why is it okay for you to self-medicate but not me?"

"Oh, I don't know … because I am a fucking adult, Peter?" Tony snapped. "You're not even sixteen yet and downing cocktails. I think it's a bit different."

Peter went to open his mouth to argue, but Tony put up a hand. "Look, I get it. You are going through some shit. We all are, but you can't do this. You're too young. I don't want you ending up like me, okay? I'm not someone you should aspire to be. I'm a mess. You're right; I drink away my feelings." Tony sighed, looking tired. "I want more for you. Please, Peter. Let me help you."

Peter looked at Tony, really looked at him. He'd never seen the man so vulnerable, and it just sucked the anger out of him. Peter was tired, and he just couldn't fight anymore. Deep down, he didn't want it to be like this. He used to want more. He used to be happy. Maybe he should trust Tony.

"Okay," Peter whispered finally, breaking the silence.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I guess maybe you're right. I need help. I don't like who I am anymore."

Tony walked over to Peter and wrapped him in a hug, pulling back to look him in the eye, squeezing his shoulders. "That, that was a hug. I think we're there now. Don't you?"

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered.

"It's gonna be okay, Peter. You might feel lost right now, but I promise it will get better."

Peter nodded, traitorous tears beginning to prick at his eyes. "What if I can't do it?"

"Look at me, Peter," Tony said. "You can, but I won't sugar coat this. Withdrawals are a bitch, but I know you. I know you're strong enough to handle whatever this brings. Now, why don't you lay down on the couch while I go call Happy to collect your things then we'll head up the compound."

"Thanks, Tony, and I'm sorry for, you know, being such a jerk earlier." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "And for jumping."

Tony just drew a breath and nodded. "Go lay down and rest. I'll be back soon, and we'll head out. I have some calls to make."

Peter walked over to the couch and plopped down. He was nervous about the future and hurting from the past, and the worst part was, he just wanted a drink. Peter closed his eyes and tried to block out the cycling thoughts of what was to come. He focused on the faith Tony had in him because truthfully, he wasn't feeling any faith in himself.


End file.
